


The In-Between

by Curioser



Category: DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), Teen Titans (Animated Series)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18425976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curioser/pseuds/Curioser
Summary: Story 5: Raven is sick of Christmas music. Robin's got an idea. A holiday friendship fic, set between "The Prophecy" and "Birthmark."





	1. You Can Take the Titanimal Out of the Hat

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, friends,
> 
> I've been toying for a while with the idea of writing a series of oneshots about the Titan dynamics we never get to see: the consequences of certain episodes, conversations and growth that are implied but not shown, and all the fun relational, domestic aspects of the show that we don't get enough of. These will likely slip back and forth through the show's timeline. They likely won't be consistent with one another, so you might see certain thematic or situational elements repeated. But hopefully you'll enjoy reading them as much as I do writing them. These characters are just so much darn fun.

_For anyone who needs a refresher course: This first story takes place immediately following the events of "Bunny Raven, or How to Make a Titanimal Disappear." Mumbo Jumbo turns Raven into a rabbit, Robin into a monkey, Starfire into a cat, and Cyborg into a dancing bear. Since Beast Boy turns into animals already, Mumbo turns him into a lamp that can shift into other inanimate objects._

_Get it? Got it? Good. On with the show._

_Oh. Disclaimer: I don't own the Teen Titans. Not even a little bit._

 

* * *

  
  
At 3 a.m., Raven woke up to the sound of someone banging around in the kitchen.

This wasn’t the most unusual occurrence: Someone was almost always banging around in the kitchen, whether it was Starfire happily preparing a Tamaranean dish no one but herself would eat, or Cyborg going full-on chef mode at just about any hour. But the ruckus didn’t usually sound so violent: cupboards slammed, dishes clattering vehemently in the sink, muffled thumps of things thrown too forcefully on the counters.

Frowning, and too curious to go back to sleep, she slung her cloak around her shoulders and ventured to the kitchen to investigate.

She half expected to see Beast Boy in the midst of making a vegetarian midnight snack. What she saw—to her astonishment—was Robin, gloves off, flour up to his elbows and looking supremely annoyed.

He glared at her from the mess over which he stood—eggshells, opened flour and sugar bags, dirtied measuring cups, general detritus—and said, “Not one word.”

She raised an eyebrow.

As the Boy Wonder returned to his project, Raven drifted over to the electric kettle to heat up water for tea, as though this had been her goal all along. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Robin huffed over a cookbook, measuring vanilla and milk and slamming down the bottles with unnecessary force. She didn’t need to tap into their mental bond to know what he was feeling: Agitation rolled off him in waves.

The kettle beeped. She measured tea leaves into a strainer and filled a mug, then extracted a bag of baby carrots and bottle of ranch dressing from the fridge before taking a seat on a stool across from Robin.

She sipped her tea and waited a few moments before opening with, “So.”

“No.”

“I can’t help but notice—”

“ _No._ ”

“—that you're taking out unfair amounts of frustration on Cyborg’s baking utensils.”

“It’s a whisk. It doesn’t have feelings.”

“What are you making?”

“Banana bread.”

He lifted a bowl of yellow mush that was, without question, mashed bananas. One floured hand over his nose, he turned the bowl over into the batter, suppressing a gag as it fell out with a _glop._

Raven dabbed a carrot delicately into her puddle of ranch dressing.

“I feel like I should point out,” she said, “that you hate bananas.”

It was true. Robin was not a picky eater—in fact, like Cyborg, he would eat pretty much anything put in front of him when he remembered to eat at all. But for as long as Raven had known him, Robin had drawn the line at bananas, declaring he couldn’t stand the way they smelled.

“Yes.”

“So…why are you angry-baking banana bread at 3 a.m.?”

He looked up from his batter, and the whites of his mask narrowed.

“I don’t know, Raven. Why are you eating carrots at 3 a.m.?”

She paused with a carrot halfway to her mouth. She put it down, and tried to cover up her blush with a glare.

“I see.”

“Yeah.”

“You too, huh?”

She’d thought she was the only one still suffering from the aftermath of being turned into an animal by Mumbo Jumbo. Spending several hours as a white rabbit had, as she’d predicted, left a lingering side effect: Her nose did indeed twitch every time the Titans’ alarm went off. But it also manifested in other ways, like a constant craving for vegetables or salt, or an urge to nibble to keep her teeth from growing.

Which they weren’t. Of course they weren’t. But her brain kept forgetting that.

“It’s been _three days,_ ” said Robin. She hadn’t thought it was possible for anyone to look so pissed off while using a whisk. “I’m losing my mind. Earlier today, in the gym? I tried to reach for something with my _tail._ ”

Raven nearly choked on a gulp of tea, vividly remembering how useful that extra appendage had been when Robin was stuck as a capuchin monkey.

“That’s pretty bad,” she said, coughing to hide her laughter, but the flickering kitchen light bulb gave her away. Robin scowled.

“ _Anyway._ I woke up at midnight craving bananas, which is stupid, and I couldn’t go back to sleep. So I figured I’d try to, you know, appease the weird animal thing by doing a normal human thing. Like baking.”

“Banana bread.”

“Yeah. Two birds, one stone. Honestly, I think I just needed something to do with my p—hands, hands, _hands,_ Jesus _Christ!_ ”

He slopped a considerable amount of batter onto the countertop rather than into one of Cyborg’s waiting bread pans. The lights flickered again.

When the pan was safely in the oven, Robin plopped into a seat across from Raven and laid his head in his arms with a groan.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, “about asking Beast Boy—”

“Absolutely not. We will literally never hear the end of it.”

“I know, but if it means I stop wanting to…to check myself for fleas—or worse, check _you guys_ for fleas—it might be worth basically gift-wrapping a year’s worth of joke material for him.”

The door to the hallway slid open.

“Gift-wrapping what now?”

Cyborg and Starfire came in, looking tired and perplexed to see the other two at the counter.

“Y’all havin’ a party without us? And why are you sittin’ in the dark?” Cyborg clapped his hands. The hall and living room lights came on as well, brightening the dim kitchen area. “That’s better... Wait. Robin, are you _baking?_ ”

“And with bananas?” Starfire lifted a peel questioningly. “Did you not once say bananas were ‘the actual worst’?”

Robin waved vaguely, still without raising his head from the counter. Cyborg raised his one human eyebrow.

“Alrighty. Anybody else want coffee?”

“Please,” said Robin. Cyborg rolled his eye and moved toward the coffee maker.

“So? Anybody want to tell us what the occasion is?”

“Nothing,” said Raven, smirking into her mug. “Robin’s just trying to get a monkey off his back.”

“I changed my mind. _Raven_ is the actual worst.”

“Oh! I remember this expression!” Starfire beamed. “It means Robin has something weighing upon his mind, rather than acknowledging the existence of a real primate! Correct?”

Cyborg chuckled. “You got it, Star. Although…”

He frowned at the banana peels, and then Raven’s carrots.

“Aw, hell. Not you guys, too?”

Robin’s head popped up in shock.

“You’re joking,” said Raven.

“Are you serious? What’s wrong with you two?”

“It’s Star, mostly,” Cyborg said. “I noticed it in the gym the other day.”

Starfire’s face took on a pained expression.

“What happened?”

“The light must’ve been shining on my armor, because I was throwing reflections on the wall, and—well, just watch.”

Cyborg changed one of his fingertips into a laser pointer. As soon as the red dot appeared on the wall, Starfire squeaked and launched after it, slapping it so hard she created a hand-shaped dent.

Robin burst out laughing, and Starfire glared, not sure which of the two boys to be more irritated with.

“Please do not do that again,” she growled at Cyborg, as Robin tried to get himself under control.

“That _sucks._ I’m so sorry, Star.”

“It is _very_ annoying, and most distracting.”

“Yeah. You couldn’t look away from the reflections I was casting.” Cyborg brought two mugs to the counter, and Robin wrapped his hands around one gratefully. “I thought you were in some kinda trance.”

“It felt so,” Starfire said, still sulking.

“So.” Raven narrowed her eyes at Cyborg. “Robin and I are having weird cravings, Starfire can’t turn off her hunter’s instincts. What’s wrong with you?”

“…You know that thing bears do? When they itch and rub up on stuff?”

“That’s it?” Robin shook his head in disgust. “You got off easy.”

“I sincerely doubt that’s the only thing,” said Raven, her eyes still narrowed. “Maybe it just hasn’t manifested yet. Maybe you’ll have a nervous breakdown every time you see a tutu.”

Cyborg glowered as Robin snorted into his cup of coffee, coming up sputtering and laughing.

“You know I can kill you, right?” Cyborg growled.

“You can _try_ ,” Robin shot back.

“Boys,” said Raven warningly, as the hall door slid open again.

“Something smells good. What’s going on?”

Everyone but Starfire groaned as Beast Boy walked into the room. He had a bouncy ball in one hand, tossing it idly as he walked, and he made a face at his teammates.

“Good to see you guys, too. It’s nice to be loved.”

“Sorry, man. There’s coffee if you want it.”

“What’s in the oven?”

“Rob made banana bread.”

“…Why?”

“Reasons,” Robin grumped.

“Suit yourself.” Beast Boy tossed his ball moodily, letting it rebound off a cabinet before catching it and aiming elsewhere. Starfire watched the ball’s progress with a tortured expression.

“Give me that,” snapped Robin, snatching the ball out of the air. “Where did you even get this? Out of a gumball machine?”

“God, what is _with_ you guys lately? Everyone is so on edge I can practically smell it.”

 No one answered immediately. But Starfire caved first.

“Beast Boy, when you change from animal form—”

“Star, _no!_ ”

“—must you overcome any lingering animal instincts? Because since the incident in the Mumbo’s hat—”

“Star, stop talking,” said Raven, covering her eyes with her hand to block out the disaster coming. But Starfire didn’t have to finish. Beast Boy’s face had split into a grin.

“Let me guess. You guys are feeling ‘lingering instincts?’” He formed air quotes around the words, his smile growing more gleeful by the second. “Oh my god, what are they? Have you tried to hack up any hairballs, Star? Those are the _worst._ And Raven, you probably just want to chew on, like, _everything_ , right? Hey Rob, tried to pick up anything with your tail yet?”

Both Cyborg and Starfire’s jaws dropped, and they snapped their gazes to the Boy Wonder. Robin buried his face in his hands in mortification, his hairline turning bright red.

“What’d you get, Cy?”

“Phantom itches,” Cyborg answered—too quickly. “No big deal.”

Like Raven, Beast Boy narrowed his eyes at Cyborg. Then he smirked, and started humming a Russian-sounding folk song.

Cyborg nearly fell over as one of his legs spasmed in response, trying to kick into a dance.

“WHAT THE—”

Cyborg clapped his hands to his knees as the rest of the team burst out laughing, Beast Boy nearly doubled-up in his chair. “You little grass stain, when I get hold of you—!”

“Sorry, Borgy-Bear, you don’t scare me!” Cyborg took a swipe at him, but Beast Boy danced impishly out of the way as Robin and Starfire continued to crack up.

“Enough!” Raven wrapped a tendril of magic around Cyborg and Beast Boy’s respective waists, forcing them back into their seats and out of striking distance. “Beast Boy, you knew all the side effects. How do you make them stop?”

Beast Boy shrugged. “Practice? I dunno. I transform too often for any set of side effects to take hold for very long. If something comes up—take the tail thing, that happens a lot—I just think, ‘Oh yeah, I’m human right now, I can’t do that,’ and I stop wanting to.”

“So I must simply say to myself, ‘Starfire, you are no longer a cat, and there is no need to do cat things?’” Star looked doubtful. “I have been trying this and it has not worked very well. It is most frustrating. I was not very good at being a cat in the first place.”

“You were a cute cat,” said Robin absently, rolling the bouncy ball under his palm. Then, realizing what he’d said: “I mean. As far as cats go. Not in a weird way.”

“I…thank you?”

Beast Boy buckled with giggles again as Robin and Starfire, clearly flustered, tried to look just about anywhere but at each other. Raven hid her face behind her mug, taking a huge gulp of tea to stop herself from joining Beast Boy. Things were getting mildly hysterical, and she was going to start popping light bulbs soon if they didn’t calm down.

The oven timer beeped. Robin went to take the bread out of the oven, while Cyborg pulled out plates and a bread knife.

“So we just wait it out?” Raven asked as the boys slid a warm slice of banana bread in front of her. Beast Boy nodded.

“Yeah, I think you’re going to have to. But it probably won’t take long. You guys were only animals for a few hours, and you can’t transform again. Eventually your bodies will forget what it was like to be something else.” He took a big bite of his bread. “Y’know. Pro’lly.”

“Probably,” repeated Robin hollowly, poking uncertainly at his own serving. “Have you had any weird side effects? From being a lamp, or whatever?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. Maybe it’s a shapeshifter thing.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Cyborg, still sour from Beast Boy’s earlier joke. He took a bite of his slice, and his eyes widened. “This is actually pretty good.”

“Really?” Robin looked surprised but pleased. “Thanks.”

They ate, and Raven had to admit that Cyborg was right: despite Robin having never exhibited baking skills before—because he never baked—the banana bread was tasty. When they finished, there was plenty left over for breakfast.

“Sun won’t be up for another few hours,” said Cyborg, glancing at the dark windows. “Anybody up for a game?”

“I think I’m just going back to bed,” said Robin.

“Ditto,” said Beast Boy with a yawn. “That snack hit the spot. Now I’m all warm and sleepy.”

“I also shall return to bed.”

“For a cat nap?” Robin teased, and ducked when Starfire aimed a swat at his head.

“I hope the monkey _stays_  upon your back.”

“No,” said Raven, pinching the bridge of her nose. “We are not joking about this. We are not making this a normal thing.”

“Yeah, guys, cut it out. Raven says it’s not _bunny._ ” Beast Boy cackled to himself, even as the others groaned.

“Come on, BB, that was barely even a pun.”

“You’re just mad you didn’t think of it first.”

“Bed. Everyone. _Now._ ” Raven pointed to the door, and the others moved toward the hall. Cyborg, at the rear, paused in the entryway.

“I’ll get the lights.”

He clapped twice. The lights went out immediately—and Beast Boy dropped like a stone onto the carpet.

Starfire yelped in alarm and concern, but the group’s panic ebbed away quickly when they realized Beast Boy was snoring, loudly and contentedly. Cyborg looked in wonder from his hands, to the light fixtures, to the sleeping changeling on the floor.

“Well,” said Robin, a barely contained laugh rippling under his words. “I guess we found Beast Boy’s side effect.”

“I changed my mind,” Raven said. “This is fine.”


	2. Puppet King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Five months in, he wasn't even sure what he missed. Maybe it was his old room, his old city. Maybe, just maybe, he actually missed Bruce. But he wondered if what he missed most was just having someone else to be in charge all the damn time." Robin's a little shaken up after the night of the Puppet King.

The first thing Robin did when they returned after defeating the Puppet King was take a shower.

While the water heated, he took stock of the injuries his body had sustained while something else had occupied it. He stood naked in front of the quickly steaming mirror, thinking he could almost see the bruises and welts rising on his skin.

Clobbered by Beast Boy, as a tiger and a gorilla. A few gashes from being thrown, likely from something high. A number of very distinctly fist-shaped bruises, though he couldn't say which of the girls had punched him. His legs and back ached from being jerked into the air by his ankle, around which the skin had been rubbed raw by the suspending rope.

They were certainly not the worst injuries he'd ever sustained. And by all means, they were better than whatever alternative had awaited them at the bottom of that glowing cauldron. But having no memory of the injuries—knowing they had happened when he wasn't  _in_  his body—made them unnerving.

He showered carefully, probing for any wounds he had missed, exploring the different aches and pains. When he was done, he thought about getting out but ran a tub instead. If Beast Boy wanted a shower, he could hound the girls out of their bathroom. This was one of the few places in the Tower that Robin could get some goddamn peace and quiet, and after the night they'd all had, he was taking it.

He climbed into the tub and lay back, closing his eyes. His mask hung limp over the bathroom counter, along with a clean uniform. It was a relief to strip it all off for a moment.

His heart rate still hadn't completely returned to normal after their ordeal. That had been the strangest, most terrible part: knowing he was terrified, knowing he could die with no way to fight back, and not feeling his heart racing, pumping blood and adrenaline through his body. He had been essence reattached to wood, thought without the brain that sustained it.

Robin had been brainwashed before. He had even been possessed. But this had been infinitely worse. He hadn't been forced to the passenger seat; he'd been crowded out of his body entirely.

And Cyborg had insisted on bringing the evil husk of a puppet back to the Tower, as a trophy. Robin was more than a little tempted to steal the thing and burn it in the middle of the night.

He sighed and settled a little deeper into the water.

How long had they been at this? Five, almost six months, now. And for the most part it was good. But every now and then—like tonight—he felt like he'd gotten in over his head with this project. Thank God for the girls and their resourcefulness, their teamwork. Otherwise the other three would be, as the Puppet King put it, "destroyed." He could never have foreseen it, much less trained them for it.

He wanted to feel proud of Raven and Starfire, and for the most part he did. But he also felt tired, beyond the fatigue of his body. On the way home, everyone had wanted to talk—Raven and Star to discuss their victory, Cyborg and Beast Boy to weigh better security screenings. All of them to ask Robin if he'd ever seen anything like it before.

And of course he hadn't. Who the fuck turned people into puppets?

It was wearing, being the most expert member of the team. He had known that when he signed up for it, intellectually, but living it 24/7 was exhausting. He knew how to lead training sessions and give pep talks, how to comfort and encourage when a teammate needed it. But in moments like now, he didn't know where to turn when he was out of his own depth. He'd feel most comfortable talking—at least in a veiled way—to Starfire about it. But he didn't want her worrying, or watching, or worse, second-guessing him when he needed her to trust and follow.

He thought with a twist of guilt about the second suit he'd been working on, but he pushed it out of his mind. Time enough for that later.

He thought about calling home. It had been weeks since his last call. Alfred had said Bruce wasn't there, so the two of them had had a long chat instead. But Robin wasn't sure Alfred had been entirely truthful about Bruce, who had not been overly pleased with Robin's decision to leave. At any rate, Bruce hadn't returned the call, and to his own shock and disgust, Robin was starting to feel homesick.

He wasn't even sure what he missed. Maybe it was his old room, his old city, Alfred and Babs and others who had helped raise him. Maybe, just maybe, he actually missed Bruce. But he wondered if what he missed most was just having someone else to be in charge all the damn time.

Normally he wasn't homesick at all. He was too busy training, patrolling, fighting. And conducting "bonding activities" to help build their camaraderie, on and off the battlefield. Playing GameStation with Beast Boy and Cyborg. Working or reading quietly in the same room as Raven, while she meditated or drank tea. Exploring Jump City with Starfire, fielding her endless questions about Earth customs and daily life. Just talking to Starfire for hours, and hours.

Movie nights. Pizza dinners. Basketball and volleyball games on the roof, cards and board games on the coffee table. All part of training. Of team-building.

Oh, bullshit.

The water was starting to cool. He hunkered farther down into the tub and turned the hot water tap with his foot, scowling to no one.

It was fun. Okay? He was having  _fun,_ more fun than he had expected, more fun than he might have ever had in his life.

In Gotham, he didn't have friends his own age. Not real friends, anyway. He got along well with his classmates, but the all had clubs and extracurriculars that he couldn't be a part of. The more people he spent time with, the more there were to question why he couldn't ever hang out after school, or attend games, or meet for group projects. So he kept to himself, and tried to be as friendly as possible while keeping others at a distance. The other kids at Gotham Academy generally left him alone, concluding that Bruce Wayne's adopted kid was aloof and stuck-up but all right for the most part. His closest companion was Barbara, but that was different. Complicated.

Here, he wasn't balancing a double life. He was Robin, 24/7, and had plenty of time for games and group meals and hanging out. And while he was certainly a leader on the battlefield and a coach in the gym, in all these other moments he could be just a  _friend._  Not overshadowed, or overshadowing. Just a 16-year-old with four roommates who got along well enough. Until he had only  _one_ life to live, he hadn't known it was possible to share so much of it with other people. And he had never really expected to find people like the Titans—who, like him, were just trying to carve out a home for themselves.

It was a weird, patchwork, impossible situation: five teenage superheroes living in a giant T, for God's sake. But it was the closest approximation to "normal" life any of them had had in a very long time, and damn it, it  _was_ fun.

Which was why this thing with the Puppet King had scared him so badly. It felt like he had forgotten what their real jobs were here: to fight and defend. Fun was an occupation hazard, not the point of the exercise. They were powerful, and good at what they did, but all five of them were mortal. This could all be snatched from them at any moment. And knowing that was a constant reality and still being happy, still having fun, felt…wrong. Incongruous. Incompatible.

About as incompatible as a sidekick, an alien, a mystic, a changeling and a cyborg all living under the same roof.

Knuckles rapped on the bathroom door.

"Hey, Robin?"

He groaned inwardly. He'd known it was only a matter of time before Beast Boy came knocking.

"I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, cool. Cuz Cyborg and I were going to start a GameStation tournament and probably watch a movie. If you want to join. It's whatever."

Robin frowned. "Hang on a second."

It was time he got out anyway; his fingers had pruned. He drained the tub and got dressed, putting his mask on last and hastily toweling his hair.

Beast Boy was fidgeting in the hallway when he opened the door.

"You're doing what now?"

"Video games. Movies. Probably lots of snacks. And, um, just kind of generally not sleeping. Right now."

He was…unusually twitchy. He kept pulling at his gloves and looking just about anywhere but Robin's masked eyes. It had been months since Beast Boy had last called him "sir," but Robin had the weary feeling that it was often at the tip of his tongue.

"I think I'll pass. It's been a long day."

"Oh, yeah. Totally. It's cool."

Beast Boy turned to leave, and then appeared to change his mind.

"Only we've got, like, the  _good_ gummy bears. And those Cracker Jack things you like. And one of those action detective movies, not a horror one."

The penny dropped then. Beast Boy—and Cyborg too, presumably—were asking him to come hang out. But they weren't just looking for a fun night in. Beast Boy wasn't just twitchy. Now that the girls had gone to bed and he'd had time to process, he was shaken up. Scared. And if Robin had to put money on it, he would guess that Cyborg was feeling the same way.

And they weren't just asking for their own comfort, he realized. They wouldn't have brought up his favorite old-fashioned candy (a holdover from his circus years) or his preferred genre of movie, which neither Beast Boy nor Cyborg found all that compelling, if they were just trying to bribe him for his company. As shaken as they were, Robin realized, they were guessing he might be feeling the same way. Neither of them wanted to be alone tonight, and they were inviting him so he didn't have to be, either.

Before he realized he was doing it, he smiled.

"Actually, that does sound good. I'm in."

Beast Boy's face lit up.

"Awesome! I'll get a few more sodas." He bounded back down the hallway. Robin rubbed away some of the steam from the mirror and combed his fingers through his hair.

Tomorrow, maybe, they would try to figure out how to defend themselves from threats of the supernatural or magical variety. And later, maybe—in the early hours of the morning, when one got so delirious with exhaustion one could be excused for showing a little vulnerability—they might level with each other over just how fucking terrifying it had been to be trapped inside puppet bodies. Later, definitely, they would deal with it all.

But right now, he was going to enjoy being cared for and included. Tonight, to fend off the nightmares, they were going to have a little fun.


	3. Collective Nouns for Titans in the Wild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> English is weird. Starfire loves it.   
> Or: The Titans revel in a little wordplay following a fight with Billy Numerous.

" _Dude!"_

Cyborg paused in the act of cracking eggs. "What?"

By now, Beast Boy's cry of indignation over Cyborg's breakfast choices was as clear a signal of the morning as a rooster crow.

" _Sausage casserole?_ You want to eat chickens  _inside_ pigs? It's not enough for you to just eat them beside each other?"

"Man, you don't have any idea how good meat with meat is. Ever heard of a turducken?"

"You mean a  _Frankenstein abomination for carnivores—"_

You'd think it would get old—and often, it did. But today, flushed with relief and victory after taking down Billy Numerous, the Titans were in a good enough mood to find it endearing. Sausage for the casserole sizzled in the frying pan, the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, and the living room was awash in bright morning light.

These were the mornings Starfire loved most. She giggled as Beast Boy made an unsuccessful dive at Cyborg's spatula. Across the table, Robin attempted to hide an amused smile, but Starfire caught his eye and a grin broke across his face. Even Raven's eyes seemed to twinkle over the rim of her tea mug. She hid it by shooting a disapproving look at Cyborg.

"I thought you were supposed to be going to bed," she said. "After having a Maximum-7 meltdown last night."

"I  _will_ ," Cyborg insisted, with the decency to look a little guilty. "But I figured a little thing like a system crash shouldn't throw off the traditional, post-bad-guy-butt-kicking breakfast."

"Billy Numerous did not know what hit him!" Starfire beamed. "It was an ingenious piece of trickery, friend."

Cyborg grinned. "Thanks, Star." He chuckled as he scooped sausage into a baking pan and poured eggs over it. Beast Boy, disgusted but defeated, leaned on the counter with his arms crossed, pulling a face. "Man, I thought Billy was gonna puke when he saw twelve Starfires coming at him. I'm gonna pull that video later and make a gif set of it."

Robin cackled. It took Starfire a moment to remember what a  _gif_  was: one of the small moving images, not static like a  _picture_  or long enough to be considered a  _video._

"I'm still weirded out that your eye records all that stuff," said Beast Boy. "Like, it's taking video  _all the time._ "

"You must have sorted through hundreds of hours of footage to build holograms that could act so organically," said Robin.

"Not really. I just built a program that could isolate certain patterns of movement and cross-referenced it with—"

"Yeah, okay," said Beast Boy, waving his hand. "I'm just gonna pretend you used, like,  _magic_  to create a whole flock of Ravens."

"Murder."

Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at Raven, who took a sip of tea as though she hadn't just said the word "murder" for no reason at the breakfast table. Of course, of the five of them, Raven was definitely most likely to say something like that without preamble. But still.

"Come again?" Starfire inquired, in a much more polite voice than the situation warranted.

"You, uh, have something you want to share, Rae?" Beast Boy edged farther down the counter, away from the resident empath. Cyborg gripped his spatula a little tighter. Only Robin looked unsurprised, mouth still curved in amusement.

"It's not a  _flock,_ " Raven said mildly. "A group of ravens is called a  _murder._ "

Cyborg seemed to sag with relief. " _Woman,_ " he said, pointing the spatula at her. "You can't  _do_ crap like that, especially not after an all-nighter. I think my core skipped a beat, and that ain't actually possible."

"Please," Starfire interjected, over the sounds of Beast Boy's sputtering and Robin's snicker. "Why is 'flock' incorrect? Does it not also mean 'multiple birds'?"

"Yes," Raven said. "But  _murder_ is the collective noun. Lots of things have them. A  _pride_  of lions. A  _glaring_  of cats. That kind of thing."

Starfire's mind reeled. She knew these words in very different context:  _Pride_  was what she felt after a well-aimed starbolt found its mark;  _glaring_ was what Raven did to Beast Boy…most of the time, really. Neither of them were synonymous with "group," "flock," "pack" or any of the other words she had heard to describe multiple somethings.

"Why use so many words when one would suffice? And why would the word for multiple ravens be the same as the one for—killing another person?"

"It's wordplay, Star," said Robin. "It's meant to put a certain picture in your head, or to make you feel a certain way. Ravens—the birds, that is—are carrion animals. They eat dead things. And because people were used to seeing them where something or someone had died, we started associating big black birds with death. But—" and here he turned to Raven, almost apologetically—"I think it's actually a murder of  _crows._  A group of ravens is an  _unkindness._ "

Raven looked distinctly offended at having been corrected. Beast Boy coughed the word " _nerd_ ," and Robin took the rubber band wrapped around the morning newspaper and flicked it at Beast Boy's head.

"Sophomore AP lit class, asshole."

"So it is for…amusement?" Starfire considered this. Tamaranean poetry was much more straightforward, but she supposed she could see the merits of this English custom. "It is for art?"

"Something like that."

"If it is not truly a murder of ravens, the bird," Starfire said, glancing at her hooded friend, "perhaps it can be a murder of Ravens, the person?"

"I'll allow it," said Raven primly. Robin shot her a sheepish grin. Starfire mulled it over, warming to the idea.

"A murder of Ravens," she mused. Her eyes fell on the youngest Titan. "And what should we call multiple Beast Boys?"

Beast Boy's eyes lit up, seizing on the game at once. "Oooh. How about—an  _awesomeness_  of Beast Boys? Or a  _bad-assery_  of Beast Boys?"

"Or an  _annoyance_  of Beast Boys," said Raven drily, and Cyborg hooted with laughter. The casserole made its way into the oven, and he joined them at the table.

"It could be a  _stain_  of Beast Boys," he suggested. "'Cuz he's a grass stain, get it?"

"Or a  _mess_  of Beast Boys," Robin teased. "For obvious reasons."

"Better than a boring little  _flock,_ " Beast Boy shot back, sticking out his tongue.

"A group of robins isn't a  _flock,_ it's a  _round._  A group of  _Robins,_  though—"

"Something fight-related," said Cyborg. "Like—a  _squadron._ Or a  _battalion._ "

"I like  _troupe_."

" _Troop,_  like soldiers?" asked Raven. Robin blushed, very slightly.

" _Troupe_  like acrobats. What are you, Cyborg?"

"Tough one. Let me check Google—" He blinked. "So a group of mechanics is called a  _torque,_ but I don't like the sound of that. Group of scientists is a  _beacon_ , which is better. Maybe…"

"A  _computation_  of Cyborgs?" Robin suggested. "A  _calculation?_ "

"OOOH, me, me!" Beast Boy's hand shot into the air. "You like to build stuff, right? What about an  _invention_ of Cyborgs?"

"Aw, YEAH!" They high-fived. "That's the best idea you ever had, string bean."

"I do my best."

"Four down." Raven turned to face Starfire. "What do we call a group of Starfires?"

"How about a  _shooting?_  Like shooting stars?"

"Or like a meteor shower. A  _shower_  of Starfires?"

"Nope." Robin shook his head. "I'm vetoing that right now. That sounds a lot dirtier than you think it does."

"No it doesn't," Beast Boy sniggered. This time Robin hit him with the newspaper. " _Ow!_ "

"A  _flaring,_ " said Raven. "Like a supernova."

"Or a  _radiance,"_ Robin suggested. Raven raised her eyebrows, smirking. "What? Stars are radiant—"

"I think I should simply like to be a  _flight,_ " said Starfire.

"A  _flight_  of Starfires." Cyborg held up a hand, ticking them off on his fingers. "An  _invention_  of Cyborgs. An  _annoyance_  of Beast Boys—"

"HEY!"

"—a  _troupe_  of Robins and a  _murder_  of Ravens. The collective nouns for the Teen Titans."

"Glorious!" Starfire beamed. "But what does one call multiple Teen Titans?"

Cyborg raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't we just call it a team?"

"Oh, this one's easy." Everyone turned to Robin. A playful grin spread across his face. "A group of Titans is called a  _clash._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to brawltogethernow and ItsDatTiredBoi for the lovely reviews on the first two chapters. I'm really glad y'all are enjoying the fic so far, and I'm super grateful that you took the time to give me your thoughts. These stories are so fun to write, but it's even better knowing that I can share the experience with other honorary Titans.
> 
> I'm almost caught up on the one-shots I'm pulling over from Fanfiction.net, so--gasp!--I'm going to have to start going through my draft pile to finally complete some new(ish) stuff. Exciting! 
> 
> Again, thanks so much for taking the time to check out my little fic. Happy reading!


	4. The Art of Snow-Fu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story 4: The day after "Red Star," the Titans are down after the loss of an honorary member. What better way to lift their spirits than an all-out snow-brawl?

Beast Boy had never seen so much snow in his life.

He'd been staring at it for days. In the town of Vostok, right on the rim of the Arctic Circle, there wasn't much else to look at, even when visibility wasn't limited by a whiteout blizzard.

Or when you weren't being distracted by a radioactive monster, as the Titans had been for the last three days.

Now, in the dawn light of a short Arctic day, the snow was a glittering white sheet as far as he could see. His spirits, which had been muted and subdued since the night before—since Red Star burst over their heads like a celestial firework—began to rise.

He wanted to otter-slide down a hill, or go bounding through the drifts as a polar bear or a fox. He wanted to do just about anything but listen to Robin, who was working his way through an ever-growing to-do list. The T-Ship had never been through a blizzard before, and while Cyborg was fairly certain it would be fine, he'd wanted to run a few maintenance checks just in case.

Now that they were out here, though, Cyborg was staring out at the sparkling landscape. He too had been quiet ever since Red Star's…departure. (Death? Did they consider it a death? Beast Boy wasn't sure, and he was afraid to ask.) But the look on Cyborg's face now was less mournful than wistful as he took in the snow, barely paying attention to Robin at all.

"We should probably do a full diagnostic to make sure none of the fluids froze in these temperatures." Robin typed a message into his communicator, likely sending his list of chores to the girls as well. As usual, he was all business, as though the night before had just been another routine mission. He and Starfire had been the last to come in the night before, watching Red Star's light fade from the top of the hill. Maybe, for Robin, that had been enough. Beast Boy didn't understand it.

He reached down and filled his hands with snow. It molded easily when he squeezed it into a ball. Just like in the movies.

Cyborg caught his eye. Without saying a word, they grinned identical grins—the kind of grin that said yes, they had come up with the exact same idea at the exact same time, and yes, it was going to get them in  _tons_ of trouble, but god, it would be worth it.

"Once Starfire and Raven get back, we'll take it for a test flight to check out the pods' docking mechanisms."

"Yeah, we could do that," Cyborg said, scooping up an armful of white powder. "Or."

"And we should probably go back up to Red Star's warehouse and do another check for leaks. I know we've done it already, and the girls said they hadn't seen any more monsters running around, but that chemical runoff is dangerous. We can't be too careful."

"Yeah," Beast Boy agreed, crafting another snowball. "Or."

Robin looked up then, his gaze traveling from their wicked smiles to the snowballs in their hands. He studied them for a long, long moment.

Then he closed his communicator and slipped it into the pocket of his parka.

"You're going to want to think very carefully before you do this," he said quietly.

"Yeah?" Cyborg was busy smoothing the edges of his creation, more snow boulder than ball. "And why's that?"

"Because you're from the West Coast, Cyborg. And Beast Boy, you grew up in Africa. You two don't know what you're dealing with."

"What, with snow?" asked Beast Boy. He had three snowballs now in the crook of his arm, a fact he sensed Robin was keenly aware of. "Like it's hard, dude."

"Not with the snow," Robin replied, still in that voice of deadly calm. "With me."

Cyborg snorted.

"Look, man, I know you're a master of like twelve different martial arts, but ain't none of 'em the art of snow-fu."

"Snow-fu is more than an art. It's a way of life." Robin's threatening tone cracked as his speech got more dramatic, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You two have never lived through an East Coast winter. You don't know the training I received on the streets of Gotham City, and you don't want to find out."

"That a threat, Bird Boy?" asked Cyborg, raising his snow boulder to his chest.

"It's a pro—"

_WHAM._

Robin fell backward from the force of the snowball as Beast Boy, with one gorilla arm, wound up for another throw.

Spitting snow, raking his hand across his mask to clear his vision, Robin sprang back up in a fighting stance. He flipped his hood up, cracked his neck, and gave them an evil smile.

"Oh shit," said Beast Boy.

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

The T-Ship was barely in sight when Starfire heard Raven groan: "Oh, no."

They landed in what looked like a warzone sculpted out of snow. Piles and drifts had been hastily scraped into battlements and just as hastily abandoned, crushed into ruin by trampling footprints. The cold air rang with the boys' wild yelling.

"DAMMIT CYBORG, HE WAS RIGHT THERE—"

" _You hit him then if you're so smart—"_

"INCOMING!"

Cyborg and Beast Boy came pelting around the side of the ship, snowballs exploding against their backs. Starfire and Raven stepped back as they dove for cover behind a battered snowdrift. The girls looked up to see Robin perched on top of the T-Ship, cackling triumphantly.

"What have you done?" asked Raven, her eyes narrowed at the two boys on the ground.

"Get down, ladies!" Beast Boy shouted. Whatever game they were playing, they were clearly too far in to come out until somebody won. "Robin's an ice fiend! We can't even hit him!"

"He's a madman! The power's gone right to his head!" Cyborg was grinning like a loon as he scraped together another projectile and flung it at Robin's head. With an over-the-top yell, Robin karate-chopped it out of the sky.

"GOTHAM CITY, BITCHES!" he crowed. "Give up yet, West Coast?"

"Not on your life! BB, you ready-?"

"WHAT?" the changeling shouted back, knocking himself hard on one side of his head. The ear on the opposite side was packed tight with snow. Atop the ship, Robin was laughing so hard he was in real danger of rupturing an organ.

"I believe this is the 'fight of snowballs' I have heard of," said Starfire, while Raven rolled her eyes. "I was not aware it would be so…violent."

"That's because our friends have no sense of moderation," Raven answered. All three boys were busily rolling more weapons. Robin's arsenal was piled to his knees and growing taller.

"Okay. Now don't friggin' miss this time—"

" _My_ aim is gonna depend on  _your_ aim, you little grass stain, so watch yourself. You ready?"

"Load me up!"

Beast Boy morphed into a crocodile, into whose mouth Cyborg deposited an armful of snowballs before it morphed again, elongating into a brontosaurus. Catapulted on the end of Beast Boy's tail, Cyborg flew into the air with a snowball in each hand.

"FOR JUMP!" he shouted, hurling the snowballs down as he sailed over Robin's head. Robin dodged them both and still landed three hits himself. He spun and nailed Beast Boy—who was soaring overhead as a pelican, a gullet full of snowballs ready to drop on the Boy Wonder—right in the throat. Beast Boy went down with a squall, accidentally swallowing his ammunition.

"Dude!" he wailed from the ground. "BRAIN FREEZE!"

Cyborg struggled out of the drift he had fallen into. Snow steamed off the casing of his circuitry as he approached, growling.

"Y'all gonna help, or you just gonna stand there?"

"Stand here," said Raven. "Obviously."

"Looks like you guys are out of luck," Robin called from the top of the T-Ship. "It'll be better if you surrender now."

"No way! We've still got Starfire!" Beast Boy turned a pair of pleading eyes to the alien princess. "Right, Star?" he said, turning the puppy-dog charm on full blast.

"Don't do it, Star!" Robin held out a mittened hand, gesturing for her to join him. "Come join my team! They won't stand a chance!"

For a moment, it looked as though Beast Boy and Cyborg were going to quit right there: There was no way they could beat both Robin  _and_ Starfire, and there was no way she was going to turn down Robin's offer to team up. Except—

"But Robin, it appears you have the unfair advantage."

Robin's jaw actually dropped as Starfire stepped toward the other two boys.

" _Starfire!_ " he cried, indignant.

"It would be unkind to our friends, would it not? The odds would be mismatched." Starfire maintained an impressive poker face, even though the amusement was creeping into her voice. "And you are abusing your power. I fear you have become the villain, and must be stopped."

Robin's look of astonishment was so priceless, Beast Boy wished he had a camera to capture it. But he composed himself quickly.

"You know that means we'll have to fight each other."

"It appears so."

"I guess this is it, then. Friendship over."

"Alas."

"We had a good run."

"Indeed."

Both of them were grinning now as they bantered—big, stupid, playful grins. The other three exchanged looks of exasperation.

"Oh  _god,_ " Raven muttered, and disappeared in a black shroud of magic.

"Grooooosssss," Beast Boy called out. "Stop flirting, guys, come on! Fight, fight!"

"We're not  _flirting,_ " Robin snapped. Starfire raised an eyebrow. "But okay. You can make it three-on-one. And you're  _still_ going to get your butts kicked."

"You know," said Cyborg, "I  _really_  doubt it."

He pointed over Robin's shoulder with a metallic finger. Robin scoffed.

"Like I'm going to fall for that. That's the lamest—"

A shadow fell across the T-Ship, and Robin turned, just in time to see a bank of snow rising up like a tidal wave behind him, lifted and guided by black magic.

" _Shit no Raven that's cheating—"_

The snow came crashing down, sweeping Robin off his perch and into the bank beside Beast Boy—and Raven stepped out of the air to take her place as victor.

"AZARATH!" she shouted. And then, after a moment's thought, "BITCHES."

"Four on Raven!" Beast Boy bellowed, as Robin wrestled out of his snow-crater. "Titans, go, go, GO!"

And the fight renewed in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is *kind of* my birthday, so reviews would be very much appreciated. :D


	5. Lessons and Carols

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven's sick of Christmas music. Robin's got an idea. Friendship oneshot, set between "Birthmark" and "The Prophecy."

 

Two days left until Christmas, and Raven honestly didn't think she was going to make it.

It wasn't just that the Tower was bursting with lights, enough garland to choke a reindeer, and sneaky bunches of mistletoe that Beast Boy had hung as a joke. And it wasn't the stress of trying to find, or make, gifts she thought her friends would actually enjoy in time for their annual Titans Christmas party. It wasn't even that Starfire kept playing obnoxious, badly written Christmas specials on the giant TV in the common room.

"IIIIIIIIII SAW MOMMY KISSING SAAAAAAAAANTA CLAUS—"

No. It was definitely the music, and Raven was ready to scream.

She turned up the volume of her iPod to a level that threatened her eardrums, but the dreary instrumentals and her closed bedroom door still couldn't drown out the sound of Cyborg belting in the kitchen.

"OH WHAT A LAUGH IT WOULD HAVE BEEEEEEEEN IF DADDY HAD ONLY SEEEEEEEEN—"

"Silent night, my ass," she muttered to herself, trying desperately to focus on her mantra. It had become progressively harder to meditate over the last week, thanks to her teammates' holiday exuberance. Annoyance bordering on fury roiled in her like a funnel cloud.

This would not do. Since her birthday, when her father's marks had glowed on her arms, her inner peace had been delicate, so easy to shatter. That feeling of having a storm inside was growing, getting stronger, to the point where she sometimes found it hard to breathe. Every now and then, flashes of rage or the growlings of a soul-deep hunger would shudder through her body. They terrified her, because she knew they weren't hers.

If she could meditate, if she could find some quiet plane, she might be able to keep it at bay… lull it back to sleep, or at least pretend…

There was a loud knock at her door. Raven yelped in surprise and dropped heavily back onto her bed. She hadn't even realized she'd been levitating.

 _Damn it._ She'd been so close to a meditative state, but there would be no reclaiming it now. Not with Cyborg's Greatest Holiday Hits, featuring the Vocal Non-Talents of Beast Boy, ringing through the Tower. She yanked her earbuds out.

"Raven?"

"It's unlocked," she said, trying not to snap. The door hissed open, and Robin stuck his head into the room.

"I'm heading out for a few hours. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. Everything okay?"

"Fine," Raven lied reflexively. Robin had been doing this a lot lately—not hovering, exactly, but being around, being  _aware_ , checking in on her while acting like he wasn't doing anything of the kind. It was annoying and intrusive. Raven refused to admit how much safer it made her feel.

And anyway, she had the sneaking suspicion he knew she was lying. She had tried to sever the mental link she'd established when Robin needed rescuing from his own mind, but she wasn't sure she had managed it. There was an electricity between them, a cautious awareness, that led her to believe Robin was as sensitive to her emotions as she was to his.

Again, annoying. Mildly intrusive. But, at this moment in her life, not at all unwelcome.

"What are you wearing?" she asked, to deflect the conversation. His uniform had been replaced with a green hooded sweatshirt and jeans, and a red knit beanie over his hair. Instead of his domino mask, he wore a pair of snug-fitting sunglasses over his eyes.

"Civvies. It's, um, a personal thing."

He looked a little awkward, as though expecting her to ask him to elaborate, or feeling like he should do so unprompted. She opened her mouth to tell him his business was his business, when a mighty  _CRASH!_ resounded from the living room.

Raven fell back on her bed and put her hands over her eyes. "What in the name of Azar are they doing  _now?_ "

"Um…" Robin stuck his head into the hallway, and then came back to report. "Cyborg is singing 'I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas,' and Beast Boy is obliging. I think Starfire is actually about to die from laughing."

Indeed, the pealing laughter from the living room had reached a frankly alarming frequency, along with the thunderous stomping of Beast Boy's pachyderm feet.

"If this doesn't stop soon," Raven said to the ceiling, "I am going to murder every last one of you."

Robin's face cracked into a wide grin. On a normal day, Raven thought, he would have heaved an aggravated sigh and stomped off to wrangle his team into order. But even he wasn't immune to the Christmas cheer. Dirty traitor.

"You need to get out of here for a few hours. Come with me."

"Come with you where?"

"You'll see."

She glared at him.

"Oh, come on. It's come out with me, or stay here and listen to the sing-alongs all night."

She groaned. Robin's grin widened.

"Awesome. Oh, hang on—"

He disappeared for a moment, then returned with another hooded sweatshirt, which he tossed to her. "We're not going as Titans, so bundle up."

Raven glowered, unclasping her cloak with ill grace.

"This had better be good," she said, and he smiled.

-T-

Raven transported them to the mainland by portal, bringing them to the city center in an alley they often used for such a purpose. Robin set off with his hands in his hoodie pocket, moving confidently through the holiday throngs. He called out a street name for Raven to look for, adding a little sheepishly that wearing sunglasses at night made it difficult to see where he was going.

Raven wore Robin's red hoodie, which was a little too large on her, and tucked her hair up into a black knit cap so that it was completely obscured. Her skin and eyes still set her apart from the average humans around her, so she had added a fuzzy scarf, dug with some effort out of a closet, to the ensemble for a thoroughly ragamuffin look. Even in winter, the temperature for their part of California rarely dipped below freezing, so the Titans were short on the kind of cold-weather clothing that worked well for disguises.

The festive street was an assault on her senses. The light displays on store fronts were excessive, sometimes gaudy, and holiday shoppers kept bumping her with their bags. Their raw feelings rubbed against her psyche—stress, irritation, impatience, pedestrian road rage. She recoiled, trying not to make it obvious that she was clinging to Robin, who through some Jedi mind-trick was able to keep people from shouldering into him as they walked. To make it all worse, obnoxious, poppy Christmas music jangled through every open door:

" _Rockin' around the Christmas tree at the Christmas party hop…"_

_"In Pennsylvania, folks are travelin' down to Dixie's sunny shores…"_

_"I don't want a lot this Christmas, I won't even wish for snow…"_

She ground her teeth, already plotting revenge on the Boy Wonder for dragging her into this hell.

 _You will end all of this,_  said a blithe little voice in her head.  _Commercialized, materialistic little people, all of this frantic, pointless rushing—gone!_

Raven flinched back from the thought. She, of all people, knew better than to throw the word "hell" around so lightly.

The crowds began to thin as stores gave way to neat townhouses, neighborhood groceries and box gardens. Raven saw the street sign Robin had told her to look out for and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned them onto a wide tree-lined street, leading them to—

A church. St. Andrew's Anglican Church, judging by the sign.

She felt a stab of panic. Above her, a string of lights flickered and died.

"Robin—"

He turned on the steps. For the first time, she could see his eyebrows—black, like his hair, long and angled. They were raised questioningly above the rim of his sunglasses.

"It's okay," he said, spotting her discomfort at once. His voice was quiet. "Trust me."

He walked through the heavy wooden door, which was propped open to the street. Swallowing, the demon's daughter followed him.

The church was small, but grand it its own way. Stained glass windows sat in wood-paneled walls, with neat rows of pews facing a slightly raised platform. Overhead, a high ceiling with exposed rafters vaulted; on either side of the platform, people in choir robes rustled their sheet music. Candles twinkled from wall sconces. Simple greenery lay along the backs of the pews.

Just beyond the front door was a basket, piled high with canned and boxed goods. Robin pulled two cans of cranberry sauce out of his hoodie—Azar only knew where, or when, he'd gotten them—and placed them near the basket, then picked up two programs. He passed one to Raven silently as he led the way to a pew, choosing one in the very back, near the door.

"Why are we here?" Raven hissed once they were seated.

"You were sick of the music around the Tower. I think you'll like this better."

"I  _highly_  doubt that—"

He shushed her as, all at once, the choir rose to its feet. The slim congregation fell silent as a single chorister stepped forward. Raven felt the tug of their shared anticipation like a hitch in her own breath.

Then a voice, high and clear, wavering like the candlelight:

" _Once in royal David's city—"_

The chorister's voice filled the quiet like the first birdsong of the morning, floating light and airy to the rafters. Raven's breath really did catch in her chest at the unexpected beauty as the rest of the chorus joined in, singing the refrain softly behind the soloist's clear voice. The song's pace was slow, the arrangement simple, with three or four vocal parts singing harmony and counterpoint.

She risked a glance at Robin, who smirked and mouthed,  _Told you_.

The voices wound their way through "Once in Royal David's City," then moved to other songs, some of which Raven didn't recognize. She followed the names in her program: "Silent Night," "In the Bleak Midwinter," "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen." The names, and the words, seemed so much less important than the music itself.

These were not the bright, poppy, candied radio tunes that so grated on her nerves. These songs were darker, somber. They belonged to a colder clime, where nights stretched long and deep and black. She had read enough Dickens to recognize the aesthetic of a British winter, and when she closed her eyes she could almost feel it wrapping around her like a shroud: a winter so long, so dim, that once upon a time people erected stone calendars and passage tombs to track the light and reassure themselves the sun would come again. If she gave herself over to the feeling, she could almost see her breath pluming in the imagined cold.

A quiet voice startled her from her reverie. Astonished, Raven realized Robin was singing along under his breath to "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." His voice was soft but clear, a little off-key but not unpleasant. Catching her look, he rolled his eyes self-consciously and bumped her shoulder with his.

They were plaintive songs, of seekers and supplicants. Of people looking for a scrap of hope to stave off the darkness. The small group who had gathered at this service on a weeknight, two days before Christmas, responded in kind. She felt them all turning to the music like leaves to the sun, sinking into an almost meditative state, not unlike the meditative sessions of the monks of Azarath. It was a unity she often felt from crowds, but the focus was different. As though they were all breaking down their own barriers, reaching out to one another in spirit, though they didn't have her powers to do so.

At some point Raven could not identify, the music shifted. It became brighter though no less grave, as subtle as night lightening toward dawn. The spirits around her rose in response, and the singing of the congregation grew louder to keep up with the chorus. Earnest, celebratory joy pressed against her like a current.

Raven opened herself up to it, letting the tide flow into and through her. She gathered it up like a vessel, like a cistern _—_ and then, amplified by her own powers, she sent it back into the crowd. Voices swelled as the singers moved into "O Come, All Ye Faithful." By "Angels We Have Heard on High," they were shaking the rafters. At her side, his self-consciousness forgotten, Robin's voice rang like a bell.

A small part of her brain—the demon part—itched and burned in protest, burrowing deeper, seeking some kind of relief in her own darkness. But another part rose to meet the music, and she let it, feeling the storm inside her quieting at last.

-T-

They got takeout from a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant and carried their Styrofoam cartons three blocks to the Jump City Municipal Library. They chose a plinth and perched on either side of one of the stone lions flanking the steps, balancing their dinners in their laps and happily bashing their least favorite Christmas music.

" _Wonderful Christmastime,_ " said Raven.

"Ugh,  _worst._  That stupid Band-Aid song,  _Do They Know It's Christmas_. I  _hate_ that one."

"Same. Kind of colonialist, to be perfectly honest. Okay. That song from the Charlie Brown cartoons. The one with the creepy children's choir."

"Good one.  _Santa Baby._ "

"Yeah, because nothing says 'peace on earth' like flirting with a fat old man." That made Robin laugh. "Oh, and the Grinch song."

"Incorrect. The Grinch is classic. I veto your choice."

"You can't veto my musical tastes."

"Can, and did." Robin used a piece of naan to mop up curry that had dribbled over the edge of his container, and popped it into his mouth. Across the street, a Jump City cop watched them out of the corner of his eye, one hand not-so-subtly gripping his nightstick. He clearly hadn't recognized them, sizing them up as possible troublemakers. Robin gave him a cheeky wave, and Raven almost giggled. "I have this diabolical idea that one year, we'll make Beast Boy put on a Santa costume and act out the whole movie."

"I'll allow the veto, on the condition that you make this happen. That's all I want for Christmas next year."

"Done." Robin grinned. "Alright. I don't know if you've heard this one, but my all-time, least-favorite Christmas song is  _The Christmas Shoes._ "

"I've never heard that one."

"Good. It's an emotionally manipulative song about how God makes bad things happen to other people's parents to teach  _you_ the true meaning of Christmas."

He shook his head in disgust. Raven chewed her curry slowly, watching his face as he ate. He looked so startlingly boyish, in his hoodie and knit hat.

"I never took you for a religious type," she said lightly. She tried to make it clear in her voice that he didn't have to take up the conversation if he didn't want to.

"I'm not," he said, in an equally light tone.

"Then why the church service?"

Robin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"My…grandfather. Used to take me." Raven nodded, trying not to act like it was a big deal that Robin had dropped a detail about his family. "Anglican churches do a Lessons and Carols service before Christmas. I asked if I could go with him one year, just out of curiosity, and it kind of became a tradition."

"Was he British?"

"He is."

 _Is._ Raven filed that away, wanting to check it later against the memories she had gleaned in her past foray into Robin's mind. She vaguely remembered a voice with an English accent, the taste of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar—dim, sensual details, nothing clear.

Another piece to the puzzle that was her roommate, leader, and friend. She hadn't known he still had family living. Somewhere out there, Robin had a home to which he did not return during the holidays.

"I wasn't really raised to be religious," Robin said suddenly, pulling—likely deliberately—her thoughts away from that direction. "And even if I was, it would be pretty hard to reconcile with the lives we lead."

"How so?"

"You practice magic. Cyborg's mostly a robot. Beast Boy has animal DNA. Starfire is from a different world, and her people worship different gods. I don't see the Christian religion bending to accommodate all of that."

"No." From her own readings on the major world religions, Christianity seemed among the  _least_  likely to make those kinds of allowances, when some denominations still wouldn't let women lead from the pulpit. "So going to church is a once-a-year deal for you? Just a Christmas tradition?"

"I think it's that way for a lot of people, to be honest."

"I suppose you don't have to be religious to appreciate the music."

"Well, it's a little more than that."

Raven looked up, a little taken aback that he hadn't accepted the obvious out she had given him. Robin looked almost as surprised, but he pressed on hesitantly. "I like the…ideas, I guess, that people talk about at Christmas. Kindness. Coming together. Looking out for each other. All that."

"Those ideas still exist through the rest of the year," she said, a little bitterly.

" _I_ know that," Robin replied. "But I think people buy into them more at Christmas. Whatever you believe about the religious parts, the story basically boils down to a bunch of scared people leaning on hope in a very, very unlikely source. Trying to be brave, even though they don't have a real reason for it. Having faith that things will turn out okay, even when it seems impossible."

She rolled her eyes, because it was  _such_ a Robin thing to say. Only the Boy Wonder could make Hallmark-card speeches without getting any crap about it.

"I mean, you felt it too." She shot him a sharp look, but he met it unflinchingly. "It was a neat trick you did, at the church. I felt you amplifying everyone's emotions. I felt you…open up."

Raven shrugged.

"Why?"

"I felt like it."

"Yeah, okay."

His tone made it clear that he wasn't going to push, but that he knew she was deflecting. They sat in a stalemate silence, irritated—but not seriously. Not uncomfortably.

She knew the calm she had felt in the midst of all the singing was temporary. Already, the darkness inside her was starting to swirl again. Christmas would come and go, and a new year—the final year—would begin, and the days would tick down and down and down until the last. That was what had been foretold, and that was what would be.

And yet…

Raven had felt her nature divided, more than she usually did, as she rode that tide of song. Her demon half had recoiled, sought refuge, from the welling-up of hope in so many souls. Even if it was nothing more than an endorphin high, no more than a  _lie_ , that feeling had given her a few moments of much-needed peace, and strength to keep the demon down a little longer.

Because while she knew her destiny was inevitable, some stupid, stubborn, flint-hard part of herself refused to  _believe_ it. And that stupid, stubborn part of herself had lately started speaking in the voice of the person sitting across from her.

The person who, having decided he no longer liked her silent treatment, was giving her a shit-eating grin.

"You know what I think?" Robin said, in a voice that indicated he did not really think it at all, and was saying it mostly to annoy her. "I think you're just finally getting into the Christmas spirit."

"Incorrect."

"I can't wait to tell Cyborg. Our resident Scrooge, seeing the light at last, no ghosts required—"

"I am throwing your present into another dimension as soon as we get home."

"You're doing presents this year? It's a Christmas miracle—"

Raven shot her takeout fork at his head, giving it a magical boost to make it land tines-first in his hat. Laughing, Robin leaped down from the plinth. He held out his hand to help her. Raven squinted at it suspiciously.

"Did you plan this?" she asked him bluntly. "The service, the 'hope and faith' speech?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right. We've just been talking about Christmas this whole time."

She couldn't see the eyes behind his sunglasses, but she imagined, from the sound of his voice, that they were shining mischievously.

"Exactly. Christmas. No ulterior motives here. Now, are we going home or what? Apparently there's another dimension with my present's name written all over it."

Raven rolled her eyes again. But she took his hand.

END

-T-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is cross-posted from Fanfiction.net, where I published it originally in 2017. I thought I'd repost it here for the holiday season. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. It's fun to try to reckon with how these very different (and frankly very damaged) teens might look at religion, coming from such wildly different backgrounds, and particularly in the context of the year they're having with Raven's big arc. Also, I love putting the birds together. They have a playful brother-sister feel to me, though they probably trade off who gets to be the "older" sibling depending on the day. 
> 
> I feel the need to point out that a character's feelings about a subject are not necessarily representative of an author's feelings about a subject. Had to make this clear because I got preached at on FF.Net and don't really feel like putting up with it again. 
> 
> Anyway. I hope you enjoyed it. Happy Holidays, all.


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